THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

"Two Left Feet in a Right Mess"

The morning sun filtered through the high windows, casting warm, golden light across the room as Alicent sat in front of her vanity, carefully brushing her hair. Her movements were slow and deliberate, yet her mind raced with the weight of the night before. She could still feel the remnants of Daemon's presence, his warmth lingering even though he had already departed for his own chambers. The decision they'd made together felt both thrilling and terrifying, like standing on the edge of a precipice.

Just as she was lost in her thoughts, the door creaked open. Hermione entered, her arms wrapped around a sleeping Teddy. She smiled at the sight of Alicent, but the sleep-deprived haze still hung over her eyes. "Good morning," she whispered softly, trying not to wake Teddy as she placed him carefully into Aegon's crib beside his twin brother. Aegon stirred for a moment but settled when Hermione hummed a soft lullaby.

After ensuring the babies were comfortable, Hermione moved toward the small jug of water by the window. She poured herself a glass, taking in the peaceful moment. Alicent's voice, sharp and sudden, broke the silence.

"I'm getting bonded."

The words hung in the air, heavy and sudden, like a rock tossed into a calm pond. Hermione froze, the glass of water halfway to her lips, her body going rigid. She blinked, the information taking a moment to sink in. Then, without warning, she choked—coughing violently as she struggled to process what she had just heard. Her hand clutched her chest as her coughs grew more intense, water spilling slightly from the glass as she regained her breath.

“You’re mad, Tara!” Hermione exclaimed, still coughing slightly as she slammed the glass down onto the table with a loud clink. She moved swiftly to the door, shutting it firmly behind her, turning the lock with a sense of urgency, as if she needed to block out the outside world for the sheer magnitude of what she had just heard. She turned back to face Alicent, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to make sense of the sudden announcement. "Who just says something like that so casually? As if it's an everyday thing? You're getting married? When did this happen?"

Alicent tugged nervously at the ends of her hair, a small, anxious habit she had developed over the years. "Last night," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Daemon has to leave for the Stepstones, and I—" She paused, swallowing hard. "I want to marry him before he leaves. He's going to war, Mione. I can't lose someone else. Not again. If we're bonded, at least I'll feel him, even from a distance. I'll know if something's wrong. Maybe...maybe I can reach him in time if it comes to that."

Hermione, stunned into silence, could only stare at her best friend. Her throat tightened, memories flashing before her eyes. She knew all too well why Alicent—Sitara—was so afraid. The war had left scars, deep and unhealed. Hermione stepped forward slowly, her heart heavy with understanding. “Oh, Tara,” she whispered, enveloping Alicent in a warm hug from behind, her arms wrapping protectively around her. The embrace was filled with the kind of comfort that only years of friendship could offer.

Alicent leaned back into the hug, closing her eyes for a brief moment, as though drawing strength from Hermione’s presence. Her breath hitched as she felt her friend’s arms around her, but the anxiety didn’t dissipate—it lingered, pressing at her chest.

Hermione held her tighter, her chin resting lightly on Alicent’s shoulder. She could feel the tension in Alicent’s body, the way her muscles remained taut despite the comforting embrace. Hermione’s heart ached for her best friend, knowing how deeply these fears ran. Sitara, while fearless in the face of her own death, had never been able to bear the loss of those she loved. Death, to her, was a familiar presence—an old friend, almost—but when it came for others, it was a cruel, unrelenting enemy.